Just Breathe
by LizDarcy1
Summary: She finds herself counting her breaths, forcing them in and out in time to the numbers, afraid that if she doesn’t do so they won’t come. AU, one-shot, introspective, one-sided Dasey. Unrequited love series: Casey.


_"I took the Polaroid down in my room, __I'm pretty sure you have a new girlfriend. __It's not as if I don't like you, i__t just makes me sad whenever I see it."_

In.

One.

Out.

She remembers from her biology class that breathing is an involuntary process, the body's automatic exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide. One's body breathes just as it digests food or pumps the heart—without thought. Even with these solid facts, facts learned in the sacred haven of knowledge she thinks of as high school, she finds herself counting her breaths, forcing them in and out in time to the numbers, afraid that if she doesn't do so they won't come.

In

Two.

Out.

Lying on her bed, she curls into herself, pressing into the mattress, trying to pressure the pain away. Any second now she will start crying—deep, gulping sobs violent enough to make her sick. She feels her breath stutter. No. She does not want to cry again. She's surprised she still has tears inside of her. In the small part of her brain not wrapped in a keen misery she wonders about the process of manufacturing tears in the body and whether or not the factory runs dry and what is the average amount of time for tears to re-accumulate after drying, but those tears well up inside of her and force the thoughts to slide from her brain to make room for even more misery.

In.

Three.

Out.

Grace. She rolls the name around in her mind. She whispers it, her voice more of an extended breath than a sound made by her vocal cords. How elegant and old fashioned. How unlike the girly Sally or Kendra or Emily. She has never truly hated anyone before. Not even him, as much as she claimed to. But this girl, whom she has met only twice and who seemed to her to be the nicest, sweetest, prettiest girl in all of Canada, this girl she hates. Because this girl he loves.

In.

Four.

Out.

He bought a ring to prove it. She hasn't seen it yet, but she imagines it is an obscene bit of glitter, tacky and overwhelming. Nora assures her it isn't. The news came just as she was packing to come home for winter break. She held bunny slippers in one hand and a box of tampons in the other as she listened to the most devastating phone call of her life. Afterward, she had to put her head between her legs to catch her breath. It didn't work. Three weeks later and it still hasn't worked.

In.

Five.

Out.

He comes home today. He and Grace have been visiting her parents for the holidays. He'll spend the last week of his break here with his fiancée. She chokes on the word, but makes herself think it. She must get used to the idea. She must be ready to smile and be welcoming, to make polite small talk, how was the flight, how did your semester go, of course it makes sense for you two to share a room, you are engaged after all, no, no, take some of my shampoo, take the last ice cream sandwich, take everything.

In.

Six.

Out.

She hears Nora calling. They're here. She can hear laughter outside, a low-pitched rumbling followed by a higher, faster giggle. She tries to press herself further into the mattress, but recognizes the futility—she knows she's not strong enough, or weak enough, to suffocate herself. She waits for a few minutes until she hears the kids tromping down the stairs to help Grace with her bags before she makes her way to the bathroom. No way in hell is she going to look less than perfect when she sees the girl who accomplished what she had been trying and failing to accomplish for six years: make Derek fall in love. She looks at herself in the mirror. "You can do this," she says. "You can do this." If she just keeps saying it, maybe it will be true.

In.

Seven.

Out.

It's worse than she imagined. The ring is beautiful. Grace is perfect. In general and for Derek. She laughs at Edwin's jokes, talks with Lizzie about sports and recycling, and acts genuinely interested in Marti's tales of her seventh grade drama. She and Nora bond over decorating ideas, and she and George share a love of really terrible music. It's like Sally all over again, except Grace is more secure and less demanding. She's got just the right combination of hot and funny to keep Derek interested, and she doesn't take any of his bull shit. But she doesn't look at Casey. Not once, and Casey knows because she doesn't take her eyes off of the other girl for the entire night. She feels her throat open up just enough for a sliver hope to slip through. She hopes she doesn't choke on it.

In.

Eight.

Out.

It's midnight and she can't sleep. She makes her way downstairs for a glass of milk, closing her eyes and holding her breath as she passes Derek's room, as if not even acknowledging the room's existence will falsify the fact that there are two bodies in there, and one of them does not belong to her. She drinks the milk slowly and is not surprised when she hears footsteps coming down the stairs. But it's not who she expects—hopes for. She shakes the milk jug at Grace in a silent question. Grace nods and Casey pours her a glass. She takes a few sips, the rock on her left hand gleaming in the moonlight from the window, and sets the glass aside. "He talks about you a lot, you know." Casey stares. "I just can't get over how much he talks about you."

In.

Nine.

Out.

Grace is leaving. The week isn't up, the ring is still on her finger, but her bags are packed, and she's standing on the curb waiting for a cab. Derek is on the porch watching her, bewildered. Casey is in her room standing at the window. She's confused, too. Derek has spoken two words to her since arriving: "Hey" when he first saw her, and "thanks" when she passed him a dish at dinner. She tried hanging out with him and Grace a lot—immersion therapy seemed the best route to take in the situation—but he could never stay in a room with her more than five minutes without whispering something to Grace and wandering away. He wouldn't stand to close to her, avoided touching her, and looked at her even less than Grace did. If she didn't know better—

"Oh," she says. "Oh." She smiles at the fog her breath makes on the window.

In.

Ten.

Out.

**LWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWDLWD**

**Hey y'all! This is my second LWD story **_**and **_**the second story in what I have decided will be my "Unrequited Love" series—a series of unconnected, mostly introspective one-shots about unrequited love in the Dasey-verse. I hope you liked it, though I know Casey's love ended up not being completely unrequited—I just **_**had **_**to make it a little Dasey-ish. **

**So, please review! And check out the first story in the series, "So Nice, So Smart," which is about Noel—yeah, I have a thing for Kimya Dawson songs.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Life With Derek**_** and the song "Tire Swing" by Kimya Dawson are properties of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. **


End file.
